9 Months and Counting
by xxkoigirlxx
Summary: This story is chronicles Fiona's pregnancy, from beginning to end. How will they handle it? Will Michael continue to pursue getting the Burn Notice lifted at the abandonment of Fiona and their child?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer – I am not the owner of any of the Burn Notice Characters. However, I am the owner of a very active imagination.**

**A/N – This will be a series all based on an expectant Fiona. I touched on Fiona being pregnant in another series of one-shots and got requests for more, so here you go! Right now, the plan is a prologue, 9 months, and an epilogue. That is all subject to change though. Please review and let me know how you like it!**

9 Months and Counting

Prologue

_A covert op, no matter how well planned out, can go wrong at any minute. Spies are humans, and we are fallible. Sometimes we underestimate how dangerous a situation is. When that happens, it can result in major bodily harm, or worse, death. We are not immortal, and we try to prepare ourselves for the possibility of the worst-case scenario. Truly, one can never be fully prepared._

The job was supposed to be an easy one. Michael was doing surveillance and tactical support from a distance, and Fiona was to go in to the warehouse, get the sensitive item that they needed, and get out. It all should have been easy and from the looks of it, all was going as planned. Michael still couldn't ignore the twinge in the pit of his stomach that told him something was going to go terribly, terribly wrong.

"Come on, Fi," he said, talking to himself. "Get in and get out. Simple."

Suddenly, through his night vision goggles, the area he was looking at was lit up so brightly that he yanked the goggles off and had to blink his eyes several times to get his vision back. Eyes still tearing, he looked. Where the warehouse had stood, there was now a giant fireball lighting up the sky.

"NO!" Michael yelled.

He immediately dialed her cell; it went right to voice mail. He tried again and again, with no success. He tossed his gear in the charger and tore down to the warehouse. By the time he got there, firefighters were already arriving on the scene. He jumped out of the car and ran towards the building, the blistering heat causing him to break into an instant sweat.

A fireman caught him around the waist and yanked him back. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't get any closer."

Michael struggled for a minute and realized the firefighter was right.

"What happened in there?" Michael asked.

"We're not sure, yet. There is concern of a secondary explosion. We're trying to get in touch with the owner to find out what was being stored in there."

Michael knew that the chances of getting a hold of the owner, at least the true owner, were slim to none. He kept that bit of information to himself. Michael tried Fiona's cell phone again to no avail.

Suddenly there was some commotion. The firefighters carried out a body bag and sat it on a stretcher where paramedics took one look at shoved the stretcher into a waiting ambulance. Michael knew from the lack of activity that it was not a good sign.

The same fireman as before came over to update Michael, even though he had no obligation to do so. Perhaps he could see the anguish on his face and sympathized with him.

"They just pulled a body out."

"Was it male or female?" Michael asked, holding his breath.

"No way to tell. It was too burned beyond recognition. We won't know until an autopsy is performed."

Michael then bolted for the charger and drove off.

Michael drove around aimlessly for a while, not even sure how he ended up parked outside of Fiona's condo. He sat there in the dark, looking up at her windows. Of course, everything was pitch black and there was not one sign of life. He put his forehead down on the steering wheel and let the emotions that he was trying so hard to contain escape.

Finally, he drove back to the loft. He was not expecting sleep to come tonight, but he had start thinking about what arrangements there were to be made. He thought about calling Sam, or Madeleine, but at this moment, he just needed to be alone. As he drove away, a light rain started to fall. Michael thought about how fitting it was, as if the sky was mourning right along with him.

Back at the loft, Michael stood outside in the now pouring rain. He let the rain soak him, wishing that somehow it could wash away the hurt and pain he was feeling inside. Scenes of moments with Fiona flashed through his head like a motion picture. He could remember the day they met like it was yesterday. Once the movie stopped, he braced himself to go inside.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he knew that he was not alone. Still on edge from what happened at the warehouse, Michael immediately drew his gun. A lone figure sat on his bed.

"Is that any way to treat a friend?" a female voice asked.

"Fiona?" Michael asked in surprise, putting his weapon away.

"Were you expecting another woman to be waiting in your bed, Michael?" she asked him slyly.

"Fi?" Michael was speechless. "But how did you… the warehouse was… I saw the body they pulled out…" He just stood there almost afraid to believe that Fiona was indeed perched on the edge of his bed.

"Well, whoever they found, it wasn't me. My guess is the idiot who planted the bomb went and blew himself up. Well, as far as I'm concerned, he got what he deserved."

Michael still stood in disbelief. "I saw it explode Fiona. I didn't see you come out. How?"

"Apparently our blueprints were inaccurate. There was a back window that wasn't shown on them. I knew what was happening and I bolted, just in time it looks like. Wait a minute, Michael, you didn't think that I…" she trailed off.

Michael rushed to the bed. His feelings of grief dissolved and a new one washed over him: anger.

"Fiona!" he yelled at her, jerking her by the arms to a stand. "Why in the hell didn't you answer your phone?"

"Michael, phones don't fair very well in an explosion. "

It was then that Michael noticed the small cuts and scrapes that were scattered about Fiona's face and arms. "The blast," he said flatly.

"Michael, I'm so-"

"Shhh," Michael whispered placing his index finger over Fiona's lips.

She looked up at him and could see the love in his eyes. He took her face in both of his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he trailed his kisses around to the various tiny wounds that marred her otherwise flawless complexion. He kissed each one while wrapping one hand around her back and bringing the other one to tangle it up in her hair.

"Fiona, I thought I lost you. I was so scared." His voice quavered.

Now it was her turn to shush him. "Shhh, Michael. It's okay. I'm okay."

He bent down and kissed her passionately. He led her to the bed.

The next morning Michael looked over and saw Fiona's face lying softly on the pillow next to him. He lifted a hand to gently stroke her face. He got up as quietly as he could as to not disturb her. Looking at the discarded clothes of the night before brought a smile to his face. After dressing, he slipped out of the loft to get some coffee.


	2. Month 1

**Disclaimer – I do not own any of the Burn Notice characters. All I own is an over-active imagination!!**

**A/N – First of all, I want to apologize for taking so long to update this. My life has taken a crazy hectic turn and doesn't look like it will slow down anytime soon, but I'll try to update at least once a week.**

**I also wanted to address one of my reviews. First off, yes, the prologue is pretty much a copy of an episode with a few minor changes and some added dialogue. It is just a prologue and I wanted to use it to set the stage for what is coming next, which as far as I have planned, will definitely not be a re-do of a prior episode. Hopefully that is understandable.**

**As for it being "fluff," well, that is up to the reader. In my opinion, in the categories I have it placed, romance and humor, yeah, that is pretty much fluff, the stuff that chic flicks are made of. It's not meant to be heavy or intense, but rather light and fun. Is it realistic to the show? Not particularly. We all know that Fiona is badass and hard core, and of course, being pregnant doesn't quite fit into that category (not to discredit any mothers out there, as I am one myself). Is it something that would likely be on the show? Nope. But then again, it's not intended to be. I had a request for more pregnant Fiona, so that's pretty much what this is, just something for fun. I hope you enjoy it!**

Month 1

_When you are a spy, you can only plan things out so much. Sometimes things crop up that are unexpected, and you do your best to work through them. Spies sometimes get sick. It's a fact of life and while it can be an annoyance, most spies just suck it up and carry on._

The job went as well as a job could go. Everything went quite smoothly with no unexpected obstacles thrown in the way. Michael, Sam and Fiona were headed back to the car when Fiona stopped dead in her tracks.

"Fiona?" Michael asked, "Are you okay?"

She just stood there, not moving, looking rather pale with a slight greenish tinge to her skin.

"I'm fine, I just…" she started to say and then ran over to a bush and threw up.

She stood there hunched over, hands on her knees waiting to see if there was more coming.

"That's just nasty!" Sam exclaimed.

Michael slapped his friend on the shoulder and shot him a warning look.

"Fi?" he said as he walked over to her.

Fiona straightened up and pulled a tissue out of her bag to wipe her mouth.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked her, concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Fiona said, embarrassed that they had just witnessed her tossing her cookies. "It's just the heat," she said, making an excuse for her display. "That and I haven't eaten yet. I just felt a little queasy, but I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive," she answered.

"Well," said Sam impatiently, "let's go to Carlito's and get that taken care of!"

Fiona sat in the back seat and laid her head on the interior of the door all the way there. When they pulled up, Michael looked back at her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he inquired.

"Yes, Michael, I'm fine!" she snapped. "Let's go eat!"

* * *

At the table, Sam ordered his usual mojito, while Michael opted for iced tea.

"I'll have water with a slice of lemon," Fiona ordered.

"Water?" Sam asked her. "What's up with that? What kind of a celebration calls for water?"

"I'm not sure beer is a good idea after what happened back there," Michael said.

"My thoughts exactly. I am absolutely starving, though," Fiona said.

"We'll take one of those big orders of nachos," Sam told the waitress. "With everything on it!" he added.

The three of them sat there making small talk until the food arrived. Michael watched Fiona sip on her water and felt satisfied that the color had returned to her cheeks and she seemed to be doing fine. That is, until the nachos arrived and the smell wafted in her direction.

Fiona bolted from the table, hand covering her mouth, making a mad dash for the ladies room.

"But she loves nachos! What's the matter with her?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Michael answered, "but I'm getting kind of worried. Do you think I should go knock on the door and make sure she's okay?"

"Nah, not a good idea. You know women, they like to keep things like that private."

As they sat there, Michael looked at his watch every minute or so. Finally after about ten minutes he stood up to go check on Fiona. Just about that time she walked up to the table and flopped down in her chair. The sickly pallor of earlier had returned and she looked disheveled and miserable.

"Boys, I'm not feeling so well. I think it's time for me to call this celebration over," Fiona said.

"I'll drive you home, Fi," Michael stated.

"Well, I'll just celebrate by myself then. That just means more nachos for me!" Sam laughed.

At the mention of tacos, Fiona cringed.

"I think we better leave now," said Michael.

"Hope you feel better, Fi!" said Sam, raising his glass.

* * *

"You need to get a car with some A/C, Michael," Fiona said, almost hanging her head out of the window to get some air.

"Sorry, Fi."

"It's okay. I'm sorry, Michael."

"For what?"

"For ruining the celebration. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Michael reached over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. He felt her forehead. While it was clammy, it was also cool.

"Well, at least you don't have a fever."

"Michael, stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car! If you don't stop it right now, I'm going to make a mess!"

He stopped the car just in time for her to open the door and vomit on the pavement. Finishing up, Fiona groaned, shut the car, and laid the seat back as far as it would go.

"Drive fast, if you don't mind," she told Michael.

Fiona shut her eyes and concentrated on breathing slow and steady, willing the nausea in her stomach to go away. She was half-dozing as they pulled up to her condo.

Michael got out of the car and came around to her side. He scooped her up like a doll, despite her objections. After getting her door open, he carried her straight to her bed, took off her shoes, and tucked her in. He brought her a cold wet washcloth and put it across her forehead.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Michael told her. "Just rest."

* * *

Not fifteen minutes later, Michael was back at her condo, letting himself in. In one hand was a large bottle of pepto bismol, in the other, a 2-liter bottle of ginger ale. He heard sounds of retching coming from the bathroom and went in to make sure Fiona was okay.

Fiona was hunched over the toilet. He went to her side and held up her hair, murmuring soothing words to her.

"It's okay," she said. "I've got nothing left to vomit up. It's just dry heaves."

"I think you have some kind of stomach virus."

"I'd say that's a fair assumption. I just hope you and Sam don't get it."

"That makes two of us."


End file.
